#ugh it's painful examining this scene in depth

[i-heart-hxh]

hello! i have a question, but i dont quite know how to word it….

i like listening to people’s thoughts on hxh, because sometimes its difficult to collect my own thoughts and hearing others articulate it helps me form my own analysis. usually it clears up confusions on narrative choices, however this thing still confuses me because ive seen lots of meta which sometimes conflict with each other or infos from the show. maybe i missed something?

i dont want to link anybody because i dont want to “call them out” but its a frequent opinion ive come across, so not one person. but what i hear sometimes goes along the lines of: gon vowed to sacrifice everything to defeat pitou -> killua arrives -> despite going through with his jajanken, killua’s presence causes gon to realize he doesnt actually want at all to sacrifice everything and the vow is broken (causing him to lose his nen when he recovers from the physical toll)

i really love this reading. the scene where gon turns to killua right before the screen goes white has always been impactful and seemed important to me for reasons i cant explain. but i’m reluctant to adopt it because the way i understood the nen vow was that it was actually a condition—that gon would only use this power to kill pitou, and then per the “rules” he would lose everything as equivalent exchange when pitou was defeated. and that the reason why his nen was lost was because nanika healed him as he was—which was nen-lost. but the show mentions vows and conditions in conjunction so much sometimes the difference gets muddled in my brain, so i suppose im confused about that as well.

i guess im just asking your thoughts on killua and gon’s love for him potentially being the thing to cause gon’s vow/condition to break. i think its a really sweet idea but im not sure if the mechanics of what exactly gon did to kill pitou support it

sorry for the long ask. please have a nice day!!!!!

Hello! Great question!

So, my way of understanding it is that Gon traded all of his nen potential (meaning all of his nen he had at that time and all of the nen he would have ever had in the future) in order to achieve his adult form and have enough power to kill Pitou. By the time he had achieved that form, he was already doomed to have no nen once he used up the massive but finite amount he had, which was his whole lifetime worth. Like taking out a loan on the full amount of money you'll ever make in your lifetime and then burning it all, but more abstract because it's not money.

It very well may have killed him as well, if not for Killua arriving. Think of the cost to his body to unnaturally achieve that form and use that much nen, which is what Killua recoils at realizing when he sees Gon in that form. I'm sure this is why he ended up as such a withered husk afterwards.

Killua showing up definitely saved him, however, both because he helped him dodge Pitou's Terpsichora and in a more far-reaching emotional sense as well. I think when Killua arrived and called his name that final time, it made Gon realize that he wasn't just giving up his own future--he was giving up his future with Killua as well, and by giving up his life it was going to destroy Killua and leave him alone. Gon had steeled himself to die prior to this, but looking back at Killua's face, his expression entirely changes, softens. As a result, I think Gon holds back a bit with his final Rock and preserves himself just enough to keep his body going. Then Nanika heals Gon's body, but this doesn't undo the nen contract he made--even though his body fully recovers, he did still give up all his nen potential, after all.

(I'm very sorry for posting these pages, know that it breaks my heart to look at them.)

So, the way I see the scene, it's less about the mechanics of it, as that's relatively straightforward. Gon losing his nen was already set when he decided he wanted to give it all up in order to be strong enough to defeat Pitou. It's more about how Killua reaching Gon impacted him emotionally and made him hold back to the degree he could at the very end. Because at that final moment Killua was able to reach him at last--by saying his name, an echo of other scenes in the arc with Meruem and Komugi.

I absolutely think the intent of that scene is that Killua has become Gon's light and saved him--by showing Gon that he wasn't alone, that there was someone else worth living for, that Killua cares about him and doesn't want to lose him. Gon lost sight of that previously amid his trauma and guilt, but in that final moment, he truly sees Killua's horror and pain at what he's doing, and Gon realizes he doesn't want to leave Killua behind forever. Gon manages to barely survive as a result.

[badnovels]

Did I miss the porn!Peeta fic posting? Because there are few things that would upset me more than if I missed one of your fics about a porn!Peeta. Just that phrase makes me tingly. #everlark #it'sbeensolong #butnorush #lyingtho

No, you haven’t missed anything! It’s below the cut. 

—

“He’s being a real bitch today,” Glimmer complained. She left a trail of her namesake across the floor as she stalked down the hallway. Her beautiful face, heavily made-up to appear flawless on screen, was mutinous. Her body was covered in a sheer peignoir that was dripping glitter as she walked, and her surgically enhanced breasts pointed rosy-tipped nipples at Katniss, which she studiously tried to ignore as she replied to an email on her phone.

“Sorry.” Katniss shrugged and finally met the other girl’s eyes. She slipped her phone in her back pocket and sighed. “You know I don’t control him. No one can.” 

To say that Peeta Mellark was an unstoppable force was an understatement. That anyone believed she had any real sway over him was laughable on a good day, but today wasn’t going to be a good day, because yesterday? Peeta caught her doing something she’d sworn never to do.

He hadn’t spoken to her since. 

And considering he didn’t go one hour without texting or calling or giving her some sort of order…well. Katniss wasn’t about to start making any demands on his schedule. He’d sent her one line this morning: studio @ nine. When she’d arrived, he was sequestered in a room that was already shooting a scene, and she’d been loitering in the hallway like a troll ever since. 

“Oh, whatever,” Glimmer said with a derisive frown. “You’re his precious…” Katniss stared at her. “…personal assistant,” she finished with a little more respect. “You could at least give us a heads up. I hate when he crashes in like this.”

“Look. He owns the production company,” Katniss said. She drank deeply from the tepid cup of coffee in her hand and grimaced. Peeta liked it sugar-sweet and full of cream, the opposite of her preference, but she needed fortification this morning if she were going to deal with a confrontation with temperamental talent. “He can show up whenever he wants.”

“Yeah, but I thought he was above all…this…now.” Glimmer gestured vaguely with her hands. “He can just sit back and relax while we make money for him on our backs.”

She choked during her next long sip. “You make him sound like a pimp.”

“If the shoe fits! It’s ridiculous how he storms in here-” The words cut off like a scratched record, and Katniss didn’t have to turn to know why.

“For your information,” Peeta said, taking the coffee cup from Katniss’ hand without acknowledging her. “A pimp wouldn’t pay you nearly as well as I do.”

“I didn’t mean…I just meant…” Glimmer stammered, backing away.

“Maybe if you put as much passion into your scenes as you do talking shit about me, we wouldn’t have to do so many reshoots,” he said. His trademark blue eyes were cold.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Go cry it out in the dressing room,” he said. “When you come back, I expect you to be professional and ready to nail your scenes. Literally.”

Glimmer fled. Katniss cleared her throat.

“That was unnecessary, don’t you think?” She tried as hard as she could to sound normal.

“Don’t even start,” Peeta warned, his voice low. He lifted the cup and glared at the lip gloss-stained rim. “You had to drink my fucking coffee?”

“I drink it every morning. Out of spite.”

“Why’d you do it?” he asked suddenly, throwing the half-full cup into the trash.

“Well.” She chewed on her lip and looked at the wall behind him. “I really didn’t know you were that serious about your coffee.”

“Don’t.”

Katniss exhaled and closed her eyes. She couldn’t believe he was actually going to bring it up. Why couldn’t they just quietly go about ignoring unsaid things? It worked for them. 

“Do you really have to do this right now?” she mumbled, turning away. She had a hard time meeting his eyes. “Let it go.”

“I had one request. One rule,” Peeta said, grasping her arm and pulling her back toward him. “Look at me.”

She reluctantly did as he asked, her face burning.

“I asked you not to watch my films,” he said slowly, “because of this. Right here.”

“This, what?”

He gave her a resentful look, his handsome face showing the true depth of his anger. He didn’t look like a polished, successful entrepreneur at that moment. He didn’t look like the funny, humble man that he was sometimes with her in private, a hard-won intimacy and friendship she’d developed as the person who looked after his every need for the past three years. Peeta now looked like the raw, brutish person who fought his way up from a dodgy, orphaned childhood, where he transitioned from a homeless teen to an edgy adult film star who specialized in controversial, rough kink.

“This. Where you can barely talk to me. Where you treat me like I’m something to be ashamed of,” he said, voice hard.

“Jesus!” she exclaimed. “Do you really think I’m that much of a prude? I work for the owner of a porn company.”

“You’re my assistant because you had no choice,” Peeta reminded her with a curl of his upper lip. “You’d be on the first flight outta LA if you’d had any other options. You took this job because you were broke and desperate, and Prim begged me for the favor.”

“That’s really low.” Disbelief flared, taking the place of embarassment. “Don’t bring my sister into this.”

“Why not?” he taunted her, his beautiful smile unkind and cruel.

“Because…” She was speechless with anger and confusion and hurt. This was all spiraling so out of control. They were breaking every one of their rules, even the unspoken ones.

“Just say it.” He stepped into her space, crowding her against the wall. “It’s because I fucked her? Years ago? Aw.” He was all faux-solicitousness. “It was just for the movies, sweetheart.”

Katniss’ vision blurred. “No.” The sudden outrage made her shake, and another emotion, something sharper and brighter and painful, made her eyes burn. “Because you dragged her into this shit.”

His laugh was a bitter, brittle thing. “Now we get to the truth. The shit.” He was so close now that their foreheads were practically touching. “The disgusting porn industry that Katniss Everdeen is so far above. Who cares that it pays your bills every month.”

She pushed him, but he didn’t move. Peeta was big, and hard, and though he didn’t have a reason to keep his body in the same peak physical condition he needed back when he starred in the movies that he now produced, he was just as buff as he’d ever been.

“You’re putting words into my mouth. She’s my baby sister. I wanted…I wanted something else. I wanted her to go to school. To be a doctor. And then she met you, and the next thing I know, she’s banging people on screen and changing her name to Rose Deen.”

“I didn’t make her do anything. She asked me for a foot in the door. And she’s successful. She’s happy,” Peeta gritted out. “Prim’s my friend. I’d never hurt her, not then. Not now.”

“It doesn’t hurt that you’re making a heavy profit off of her now, either,” she said meanly, regretting it instantly when a flash of hurt that swiftly turned to anger crossed his face. God, envy made her a bitch. “Wait-”

“It’s fine.” He gave her a blank look, the kind he sent to people who didn’t matter. “It’s time to watch the dailies. You’re coming with me.”

“But I don’t do that,” she protested feebly, flustered from both the request and what she had just said to him. “Finnick usually does that with you.”

“Okay. You can do it. Or you can quit. It’s up to you,” he said, staring at her. He wasn’t throwing a tantrum. He wasn’t being a dick. He was matter-of-fact, like he didn’t care whether she walked out of the studio doors or not.

“All right,” Katniss muttered, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Look. I’m sorry. I know you’ve been good to Prim. And that it was just business.”

“Don’t be sorry. Do your job.”

Peeta turned on his heel and stalked down the hall. She struggled to keep up with him, ignoring the sympathetic grimaces that actors and crew members gave her as she hustled past. Normally she was on the other end of this particularly unpleasant stick, the one to give reassuring looks to the people that Peeta blistered on a daily basis.

Finnick turned and stared at them when Katniss trailed behind Peeta into the editing room.

“Boy. You two look like you’ve been through some things,” he observed. His copper hair gleamed to perfection, and his skin shone with good health under the same lights that made Katniss look like a hag. She hated him, and not just because of his beauty. It was for the same reason she harbored a secret, horrifying little anger at her own sister: Finnick had once gotten to touch Peeta Mellark, even if it was on film.

Katniss glared at him while Peeta examined something on one of the screens. 

“Hmm.” Her nemesis took a bite from an apple and leaned back in his computer chair, addressing Katniss. “Exactly why am I being blessed with your presence, tiny?”

“Ask my demon overlord.” She plopped down on the couch that was against the wall and then frowned. “I’m not sitting on any DNA right now, am I?”

“Casting couches are in the room next door,” Finn said with a leer. “It’s where you did your interview, actually.”

“Ugh! Shut up.” For a moment she forgot she was in a fight with her boss. “Peeta! Tell him to stop lying.”

“Don’t torment my assistant,” he said curtly. Then he sat down next to her on the couch, his thigh touching hers. “That’s my personal privilege. Now roll on the footage from this morning.”

Finn cast a doubtful look her way that was mixed with disdain. She knew he mostly considered her an annoying little prude who got in the way of his friendship and personal time with Peeta, but to hell with him. She was here because she was asked and she wasn’t going to be intimidated by the likes of a former porn star named King Badcock.

“Yeah…um.” Katniss gestured at the bank of screens, refusing to be cowed by Finn. “Play it.”

And then something happened.

What ensued was the most uneasy two hours of her life. She’d seen her fair share of cock and vagina before, especially as Peeta’s employee, but this was raw and up-close and technical. And it was discussed in great detail, paused and analyzed, all while the heat from Peeta’s body was touching hers. She couldn’t explain it, couldn’t even put it into words, but hearing words like ‘cum shot’ and ‘squirting’ dropped from such a beautiful mouth in such a dry, deadpan voice was doing something to her that no amount of actual porn had ever done. So she sat there in quiet, squirming agony while Peeta and Finn talked around her.

Her leg was jiggling with nervous energy when Peeta landed a heavy hand on her knee.

“Like I was saying,” he said as if nothing had changed. “Zoom in right there, Finn. Yeah.”

Katniss stiffened and looked at his profile, but he just continued to speak to his partner. His fingers were there, splayed on her skin, and it was somehow the most vulgar sight she’d ever seen. He might as well have been nine inches deep in her pussy, she was so turned on– turned on and furious at herself for her reaction.

“Peeta.”

He and Finn both turned to look at her, their expressions odd. She could only imagine what they saw. She was hot, and if she wasn’t sweating she soon would be. Any second she was going to come right out of her skin. 

“Yes?” he asked.

“I need.” She stopped and started and rubbed her face, stuttering. “I need…I need to talk to you.”

He stared at her. Saw something in her countenance. Then he looked at Finn. “Get out.”

“You serious?” Finnick said, visibly annoyed. “You called me into the studio early, talking shit about being on a time constraint. And now-’

“Get. Out.”

He got out.

“Well?” Peeta finally asked in the long moment that followed Finnick’s departure.

“I…” She tripped over her tongue.

Silence. Then, “You look like you want be fucked.” This was delivered coolly, deadpan, but he couldn’t quite hide the undercurrent of something like astonishment.

“You’re so arrogant,” she said, her hand shaking. Katniss stood, but his strong hands found her hips, and he pulled her down to sit on his lap. She wasn’t even surprised. It was a Wednesday afternoon and she was sitting on Peeta Mellark’s denim-covered erection, and it felt as natural as breathing.

“Do you?” he asked into her ear. “Just say the word. Say anything, Kat.” She held back a moan. “I’ll be your dirty little secret. Your nasty, trashy porn star.” He bit the shell of her ear and Katniss squeaked. Squeaked. “I’ll be whatever you want, just tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” she whispered. And she really did. Despite the history with her sister, the fact that she worked for him, that they could barely go a day without bickering…she wanted Peeta Mellark with an intensity that scared her. 

She thought he’d explode into action at her words. If it had been one his movies, he’d have torn her dress straight down the back. He’d rip her underwear with his bare hands and pound into her, then and there.

Instead, it was a painfully slow seduction that followed. He lifted her up, turned her to face him, and looked at her.

“You’re so damn pretty,” he said almost angrily. He fingers were at contrast to his voice, gentling gliding over the rise of her cheekbones. “I don’t understand…I don’t know why it feels like this. I’ve seen so many beautiful women. Nicer women.”

“Charmer.”

“I don’t want beautiful. Or nice, I guess,” he said. “I want you. With your sour patch tongue and mean eyes and sweet lips…god, your fucking lips.”

Peeta kissed her. His tongue swept her mouth, and she allowed it, giving back the energy he was infusing into her. His hands ran down her arms as if to give her warmth, but then they were working on the buttons of her shirt-dress, both nimble and leisurely at the same time. Her bra came off and then his clever mouth was pressing kissing down her jaw, nipping the sensitive space between neck and shoulder, and then pulling gently at her sensitive nipple, worrying it with his straight white teeth.

When he pulled his head away she almost cried.

“Come back,” she said, and he laughed in disbelief before scrubbing at his face.

“Can’t believe I’m saying this. But. I don’t wanna do you here,” he said. With his blond waves and flushed face, he suddenly looked more like a fallen angel rather a hardened businessman.“That seems…I don’t want to.”

“Where, then?” Katniss panted, staring up at him with frustration and bewilderment.

Peeta didn’t speak for a long moment. Instead, he helped her back into her bra, kissing her every time she started to protest.

“Let me take you on a date.” His expression was a mix of grumpy, horny defiance and a dash of what she’d swear was vulnerability. “A good one. We can fuck all night long after that.”

“Why?”

He closed his eyes as if praying for inner peace. “Because I like you. I like you and I want to do it right. For once. Prove to you I’m not the man you think I am. That I can be a better man.”

“I don’t think you’re a bad man, Peeta.” She touched his cheek. “I thought…I don’t know. I’m not anything like what someone like you’d be interested in.”

“You kidding?” He gestured toward his still-raging erection. Then he stopped and shook his head. “Let me show you…just…” He held up his finger and pulled out his phone, the one she spent an hour setting up before painstakingly explaining to him how to use it for two more. He tapped on it for a moment and then thrust it at her. The background photo was a picture of Katniss, tipsy and beaming a rare smile after drinking too many margaritas at a wrap party a few months back.

Katniss blinked in pure surprise, completely at a loss. “But you’re my boss” was all she could think to say.

He gave her the squint-eyed stare she had grown to know so well. “You’re worrying about that now? You were dry humping me not ten minutes ago.”

She huffed, purely for show. “Do you wanna date me or not, asshole?”

Peeta laughed. “There’s my girl.”

[nothing-personal-my-dear]

Spartacus: Blood and Sand Rewatch - Episode 5: Shadow Games

Sex Scene: omg not a single sex scene!!

“Cock”: 7

“Cunt”: 1

“Kill Them All”: 0

Whip Cracks: 3

Slow motion Face Punch: 2

Memorable Death:  Theokoles, duh.

Favourite Line:  “You fucking haemorrhoid sucking fuck”

- They all still calling Spartacus “rabbit”, I wish someone had mentioned this in like S3, that would have been so great.

- Aww no, Pietros going to give Gnaeus water tears my heart. He was too good for this world, literally.

- “Jupiter’s cock”!!!!!! I get way too excited about hearing these words!

- Lucretia always looks fan-fucking-tastic then Quintus looks like such tasteless loser, he really had no fashion sense especially compared to his gorgeous wife.

- Okay when I first saw the pound of flesh I thought they transferred the mark onto a pig or something….but I’m pretty sure that’s the actual guy’s shoulder….so super gross.

- Eating maggots, oh god I’m gonna be sick, it’s too gross.

- Lucretia and Quintus are so in love, it’s almost sickening.

- “Examine my wares”, slaves are things not people.

- Everyone’s “oh shit” faces

- Oh! I was wrong about the one armed slave, here he is again

- Barca draping himself all over Crixus, I love it.

- “Prepare them for a glorious death,” like he doesn’t care that his best fighters are about to die, dude really?

- Okay someone has been giving Crixus lessons on flirting, boy’s game is strong!! I’m a little weak kneed from the way he looks at Naevia, oh boy.

- NOOOOOO Barca making his bet, noooooooo, my heart can’t take this

- I love how one moment Barca is typical angry brute Barca but then it’s like he remembers he’s talking to his boyfriend and everything about him softens. It’s beautiful.

- Oh god, background Gnaeus checking out Pietros, fuuuuuuck.

- Oh, now they mention the title of last week’s episode, couldn’t they have done that during the ep!

- Seriously Lucretia you are no subtle.

- Oenomaus is so BAMF I can’t even deal

- Knowing that Ilithyia is a manipulative person I’m wondering if all this bimbo nonsense is just a manipulation?????

- “I fight to honour these walls, you fight to leave them,” = basically the whole issue between Spartacus and Crixus right there.

- Oh wow. Crixus talking about Spartacus dreaming about his wife and saying she’s been fucked into madness……Foreshadow much? It actually hurts though, he has no idea the pain his words inflict, until someone like Agron says them to him later on.

- Naked wrestling. When I first saw this I thought it was incredibly homoerotic, now I’m thinking it’s way past erotic and just full blown homosexual. I mean really?? C’mon!

- Seriously give Crixus all the kudo’s, he’s probably the most sexually assaulted character on the show and everyone just brushes it aside because he’s male.

- Penis!

- “Can you survive this?”  for some reason that line really speaks to me.

- Spartacus reaching out to touch Batiatus was a massive move, like holy hell you can feel the tension in the room

- Just when I was worried no one was going to say “cunt” in this episode, good old Batiatus spouts off his usual colourful phrases.

- “I will have satisfaction”, I hate that line, it’s so full of cheese

- When Doctore removes his breast plate I was so hoping for something gruesome and amazing, but his neat scars were seriously underwhelming.

- Oh gosh, I want to cry. They just want a baby so badly.

- Ugh I hated that Ilithyia wanted to stay for the ritual. Seriously, give a woman some privacy.

- Ah, the penis candle.

- Ovidious’ son wears a necklace that looks an awful lot like the slave collar…except his is ya know, gold….. Actually the Magistrate and his family have the same necklace… What does it mean????

- I hate men like Batiatus, that command people to do unimaginable things but would never do the act themselves. I call them cowards.

- Crixus is so up himself

- The fact that Crixus has been able to get an erection for Lucretia at all astounds me.

- So apparently oral wasn’t a big thing back in ancient Rome and the act of a noble woman doing such to a slave is unimaginable. It just wouldn’t happen. This is for the benefit of the modern culture.

- Did Crixus and Naevia have sex? Wouldn’t that be her first time??

- Aw I love the promises between Varro and Spartacus. True brothers, following out the others cause.

- Crixus fighting for Naevia instead of glory, I love it so much

- I realised the Magistrate isn’t calling out their last names or whatever but he’s actually stating the style in which they fight. Ah the things you learn when you plummet to the depths of fandom

- “Shall we begin”!!!!!!!!!!!

- Barca posing, again.

- Theokoles entrance was so extra!

- Hey, he stole Crixus’ line

- Fucking Ashur

- THE SHIELD JUMP!!

- Crixus shoving organs back inside himself, super gross

- Crixus never seems overly smart but that helmet trick was genius.

[antthonystark]

can you talk about your fave alec moments from 2a?

Oh man. There’s so much, there’s basically too much – I didn’t actually think therewas that much, but wow there’s actually so much because literally every Alecscene is my favourite scene as I am a simple girl with easy standards. But I’ll try to, like, not talk for six thousand years. Let’ssee how it goes lmao.

#1 Best Top Alec Scene of All TimeEver: Alec v. Aldertree, 2x09

Oh man. Oh man. This was…this was such a gift…Ican’t even describe how I feel about it adequately. Like our boy is a saltineat the best of times, but that aspect is sort of is tempered by his forcedrespect for authority (which is a whole nother conversation which I’ve talkedabout a few times) – so against an authority figure, in the past, Alec has beensort of passive-aggressive (for lack of a better word); like in 1x09, he staresdown Lydia and hands the folder to his mom against her command, and in 2x01 hestill takes Lydia’s dismissal instead of contesting it. So I like this sceneespecially because you see him coming out of that, but it’s not OOC oranything, firstly because shedding his adherence to authority has been a partof his arc since 1x12 (and was reinforced in 2x08 with his conflicts with hismother), and also – and more significantly imo – it’s because of his family.Isabelle specifically. 

So that “I’ll do anything for my sister,” authoritative,salty as fuck Alec just taking his Institute back that thisscene brought out is my favourite ever Alec and I hope he’s here to stay.(Actually, I hope we see him struggle a bit more with his identity as aShadowhunter, his duty to the Clave and his parents and following orders andthe like, since that was a key part of his character in S1 and it would be socool to see him actually deal with that, but that’s a whole nother thing aswell). And leader!Alec has always been my favourite Alec, and there’s nothingmore I want to see than Alec being the head of the institute like he deservesto be (seeing a struggle for power between Alec/the Lightwoods/Aldertree wouldbe SO NICE too, and I’m actually really interested to see how power is going toshift hands in 2B in the Institute. Maybe seeing Alec have to navigate themessy quagmire of Shadowhunter/Clave politics which puts him at odds with theothers who don’t get how complicated it is because the consequences of any insubordinationare going to fall on his shoulders as the leader sorta like how it was in S1. And I’m also kind of interested to see how Alec navigates the whole “preserving the Lightwood honour” thing from last year - how much he values that now compared to the huge lengths he went to for the Lightwood name in the first season. That would be so cool).

Andhonestly, that smirk and that salty little pat on Aldertree’s shoulder ended mylife. It ended my life.

I just put the rest in chronological order but i just had to mention this one first lol so here we goooo

EPISODE 2x01 (and that punching bagscene in 1x02):

I’m justnaming this whole episode okay sorry (I’m probably gonna do this with mostepisodes lbr). There was just so muchgood Alec in this episode it’s hard to unpack it but let me try.

I’dprobably say my favourite moment overall is the very first one, with the wholegang in the institute. This is weird and most people would probably go for theAlec/Maryse confrontation or the Magnus/Alec scene later on, but there’s justsomething so Alec about this scenethat I love. Like, Matt did such a good job in this scene imo because you couldliterally feel the stress and panic radiating off of Alec and it just cut medeep because man oh man those parabatai feels always get me. More than that, though,you can see the fear and frustration because of the realization that the way hehas dealt with his feelings his whole life is starting to fail – in the wake ofJace’s absence, suddenly he isn’t able to bottle up his feelings and put themin a place out of his own access, so he doesn’t have to deal with them –suddenly, it’s too much to just shove out of sight and push down withoutexamining (as he tries to articulate it for the first time when he says “withJace missing, it’s like the ground has shifted and I can’t keep my balance—”). Andthroughout the first couple of episodes, you see him having to deal with thisand becoming more volatile as these feelings that he never learned how tohandle burst out of him without him being able to exert that control that he’sbeen having to do his whole life.

Relateddirectly to that, one of my other favourite scenes is from 2x02 when he’spunching the punching bag, and I love thisdetail because you saw him trying to do the same thing in a few instances inthe first season, using his physical body (and inducing physical pain, but moreon that in just a moment) as a way of trying to exorcise his feelings without dealing with them in a significant emotionalway. And that little moment when he rests his head against the punching bag –that’s when he realizes that it’s not working, that this is all too much, thathe can’t punch this away. (Leading into his decision to endanger his own lifeto get Jace back which man oh man I loved that scene too but guy we’re gonna behere all day if I keep doing this.)

I really supermega love the scene on the balcony with Magnus as well, but to try and makethis not a million years long I’m trying to focus in-depth on Alec-only scenesrather than relationship-related scenes. But know that this one is definitelyone of my faves as well. (My favourite Alec quote probably ever is “Thanks, I’vebeen working on [my apology skills]” BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK THAT’S ADORABLE ANDI LOVE IT. And that smile.)

2x04: The fight with Izzy and thesubsequent cuddle pile

(The ending of 2x03 is another favouritemoment but everything I think about it I just cry and I have nothing good tosay so I’m skipping on to 2x04).

Okay sothe fight with Izzy is deadass one of my favourite Lightwood scenes EVER, and I’vetalked about it so much before so I’ll try and keep this brief but oh my god it’sjust perfect to me in every way. Mostly I can’t stop thinking about how he justcannot even so much as bruise Isabelle when she would literallyrip his heart out if given the chance (I mean, the demon possessing her but youfeel me right). Like, he can’t hit her with a non-lethal shot and instead oftrying to force her off of him he’s just trying to reason with her (Izzy please ugh my heart) and try to gether to overcome the demon and it kills my soul. This is my true favourite Alec,the gentle big brother Alec, and that’s why I love this scene so much. Add thatto the whole “you’re the favourite child” rumination which I love because itjust shows how poorly both the Lightwood kids have been treated by theirparents so that there’s really no favourite child at all, but I talked aboutthat a lot once too lol.

Butspeaking of gentle big brother Alec oh my lord the scene right after Izzy getsunpossessed and the way he holds her and applies the iratze on her (and laterthe way he scoops her up) oh my god I die every time (I don’t think I canestimate to you how many times I’ve watched this scene tbh lol). And when Jacecomes in that little soft hug that passes through all three of them is myfavourite thing in the entire world honestly I can’t believe we were blessedwith a Lightwood group hug in my lifetime. It’s just my favourite thing aboutthem, how they were made to be weapons from childhood and how they’ve had tofend for each other, and how they’re soldiers raised in this militaristic andoppressive society that forces them to be cold and hard and yet they are sosoft and sweet and loving and kind to one another……idk if I’m articulating thiswell at all but I’m just I love itbye.

2x05: Rooftop scene with Jace/fireescape with Magnus

If I hadto pick a solid second favourite, it would probably be these two scenes, when Ithink about it. Ever since season 1, I was very interested in Alec’srelationship regarding the physical and the emotional, because of that wholepile of stuff I wrote under the 2x01 heading right up there (but more examplese.g.  punching Jace when he insinuatesAlec’s feelings for him, and the punching bag scenes in 1x06, 1x08, 1x09). Butthis is another facet to that, which is trying to avoid dealing with the emotionalpain/trauma  that he never ever taughthimself how to handle properly by trying to translate it into self-inflictedphysical pain and injury just to tryand make it go away, and it breaks my heart. I know this is a sensitive issue,so I don’t want to talk about “loving” it or anything like that, but Iappreciate it because it’s very in line with Alec as a character, not only inhis struggles with self-worth that were very apparent throughout the firstseason, but because of the way he was raised informing the way he navigates his emotions(i.e. with a lot of difficulty, and as it becomes apparent, a certain amount ofanguish), as he was both brought up in the emotionally repressive militaristic society of the shadowhunters, and struggled with being gay in an openly homophobic society, which makes it even worse for him compared to the other shadowhunter characters we see. 

Just theimage of Alec’s blood-soaked hand reaching for arrow after arrow that keep further wounding his hand was a very strong one, and it’s the reason whythis scene has stayed with me as a strong Alec moment. And his whole conversationwith Jace added to it just makes it even stronger to me, because it hammershome the guilt and the self-loathing that Alec is feeling not only for Jocelyn,but for apparently failing Jace, and you can feel his shame at hisself-perceived shortcomings coming to light and it’s heartbreaking and just sogood. (I’m not gonna keep saying “yay Matthew” but yay Matthew because he’s sogood he’s so good).

Also sincewe’re talking about 2x05, I loved the little moment with Madzie (that smile curedmy depression im p sure)

2x06: Yeah, the…the whole thing.

Yeah, sothis episode was amazing. Great Alec, great Magnus, great malec, everything sogood.

One of thethings I liked about this as a Matt stan more than anything is just the waythat Alec was allowed to have a little bit of comedy, since he’s usually such aserious character, and Matt just nailed the subtle comedy in lines like “youcan round down, if you want” and the ICONIC “17! 1700? …17000?” moment which wasjust so spectacularly done. And the best acting moment of S2A when Matt “drinksvodka straight out of the bottle” Daddario does the most perfect impression of a non-drinker drinking alcohol (as a nondrinker this was especially special to me lmao).

But morethe actual Alec moments, I think the way his insecurities were portrayed is whatI really loved in this episode? I don’t usually relate to Alec in ways that are less superficial than not drinking alcohol, but in this single specific way only (only this) I find him relatable to the sole extent that asa 20y/o with basically no relationship experience for certain reasons (yeah sadlife whatever leave me alone). But even apart from that and just focusing on Alec, one of my favourite lines was when hesaid “I didn’t want you to think that there was something wrong with me” and “…becauseI knew I could never have what I wanted” or whatever it was) because that’sjust heartbreaking and basically I just love it, I don’t have anything good or profoundto articulate here, I just love this because I’m so happy Alec can finally have what he wanted for so long, after so many sad lonely years of thinking he could never be this happy and i love him and this whole episode okay bye

On ahappier note, I also really loved the pool-playing scene between Magnus and Alec.I love how they showed his competitive spirit and that playful flirty side toboth of them,  it was really cute and Iwant a lot more of it in the future. Like, you don’t see a lot of Alec being competitiveoutside of this moment, and I feel like some of it was dulled a little bit bythe fact that he would always measure himself up against Jace and perceivehimself as coming up short, but I like when you can see his smugness andcompetitiveness come out in certain moments like this one, esp in the way that you can see Magnus making him happier and more open which yes. (And I also likeAlec talking about archery and i want more of that too).

2x07. omamori

I know2x07 was a big giant mess, but I have to give it the omamori scene. I’ve talkedabout it so much because I love it so much, so I’m deadass just going tocopy-paste something I “wrote” before on it (my grammar in this post is weirdly good and mixed up because i had to write it on MS Word and that autocorrects and capitalizes but the following is more indicative of my actual thought processes lol):

the “yesyou” especially killed me like………he’s so sweet, so obliviously sweet?? likethis is alec’s first relationship ever, and it just strikes me as so lovelythat on their second date ever, he’s like “here have this present” like!! forso long he’s never let himself do any of this, indulge in not only love andattraction and desire, but also all of the small relationshippy things - soliterally the first opportunity he gets, he gives magnus a little present:)))))) it makes me almost sad because there’s so much love in this boy and forso long it had nowhere to go and it choked him from the inside out and now hefinally gets to show it and embrace it and give it to somebody special,somebody who will appreciate and return it in kind

and hedoesn’t register or understand magnus’s surprise? he’s like “yes you duh” likeit’s just par for the course, like “this is what you’re supposed to do, isn’tit?” it’s just so fucking………..alec that it hurts

and thatthe omamori represents protection???? oh god i love it so much b/c alec is thisyoung and relatively un-special shadowhunter (in that he doesn’t have any extraspecial angel powers or whatever) and then there’s magnus who’s immortal andamazingly, endlessly powerful, but alec’s instinct is still towards protection.how sweet is this boy

So yeahthat’s that.

2x08 – Runer ceremony & the endscene with Maryse

Okay LASTONE I promise. 2x08 was again chock full of some NICE Alec scenes, and Iespecially love when Alec has scenes with his parents because as a viewer it’ssuch an interesting dynamic that I really want the show to explore a lot.

Anyway, Ilove love love the Rune Ceremony scenefor a lot of reasons, but speaking about Alec particularly I!!! love!!!!proud!!! big!!! brother!!! Alec!!!!!!! and seeing him smile at Max like that made my entire life ho my god.  And there was something very affecting aboutthe fact that since Robert couldn’t be there, it was Alec who had to accompanyMax up to the Silent Brother. idk exactly but I just really love that moment,because I guess it’s this visual representation of the emotional neglect fromthe Lightwood parents, and the way that the children had to start looking outfor each other at such a young age, and the almost parental protectiveness thatAlec has had to develop over his siblings (and his siblings over him as well) becauseof the lack of emotional support from their parents? I love this song tbh and bigbrother Alec is my favourite Alec (and the visual contrast in height betweenJack and Matt in this scene especially is just SO GOOD for this aesthetic too).You can see this dynamic in terms of some other interactions with Alec and Maxthroughout the episode (which, by the way, I loved.) And this whole idea isjust underscored by the fact that Max is so young and is already being sworn into be a soldier, basically, so it really hits home how young Shadowhunters arewhen they’re indoctrinated into this life.

And I lovethe Alec/Jace/Maryse scene at the end because the Lightwoods are such a good family, in that they’re so fuckedup and there’s so much bad shit that goes on, there’s resentment, there’sthinly-veiled homophobia, there’s emotional abuse, there are lies and secrets –but the realness of it is that they’rea family. They’re a complicated, ugly family (when it comes to parent-childdynamics), but there’s love there, even after everything. And there’s the possibility of apology and maybe, maybe, of eventual healing (as testified to by Maryse and Jace’sconversation earlier).

I know theLightwood parents are awful and often emotionally abusive, but Alec’s hug andsupport to Maryse showed so much more about Alec’s character – how heimmediately forgets all the shit he’s been put through when his mother needed ashoulder to cry on. It’s not beautiful and it’s still indicative of a fucked-upfamily dynamic, but Alec and his protective, gentle, and comforting instinctkills my soul – and I love the sort of irony, I guess you could call it, thatit’s this woman that made Alec repress those instincts in an attempt to makehim a perfect soldier, but they were too strong and too much of a part of himfor his kindness and gentleness to completely be stamped out by his upbringing,and now that’s what Maryse needs fromhim in this moment. idk where I’m going with this but you feel me right?

And I’mreally excited to see Alec’s relationship with his father unfold and get moredevelopment. Because Robert was kind to Izzy and wasn’t as openly awful aboutMalec as Maryse was, people got the idea that he was “better” to Alec thanMaryse, but if you look at season one, Robert did his fair share of mistreatingAlec (not to mention that thinly-veiled dig at Magnus being a “lothario”). SoTodd & Darren teased that Alec/Robert scene and my god they better deliveron this and deliver properly becauseit’s all I want.

2x10: REAL QUICK so I really really likedthe “I love you” malec scene from 2x10 but I wrong a long-ass answer on that back then, so I’m not gonna get into it nowI literally have no more words to say about it lmao

AND YUPTHERE IT IS. These are my favourite Alec scenes. I think I did okay, all thingsconsidered.

[mothergayselle]

Marionette Demon // Obey Me! // MC x Lucifer

rating: T-M words: 5k (but y) summary: the brothers watch MC and Asmo make out during his birthday & Lucifer has something to say about it afterward lel (a n g s t)

xxx

read on AO3

xxx

“I can’t believe we have to just stand here and watch this.”

Mammon’s voice slipped over the unnatural stillness, bringing life to what the rest were thinking. Other voices could be heard in the background -- Asmo, sounding particularly oily today, and unfortunately… Freya. 

For the rest of the brothers, it was their job to remain inert and quiet so that they may finally be able to put the mystery of Asmodeus’s stalker to rest and reveal who was behind the unnecessary ordeal. The plan depended on each of them to keep their mouths shut and remain in the shadows so Asmo and Freya could draw out the culprit, but…

It was, for lack of a better word, obnoxious.

Even so, Mammon’s voice afflicted Lucifer, and he couldn’t restrain the scowl growing impatient on his brow and mouth. He’d been concentrating on the scene about to unfold before them, the most abominable display of affection ever spawned. 

As his younger brother drew Freya closer, Lucifer’s gaze was drawn to their hands interlocking, the coy, libidinous smile glowing on Asmo’s face, and then Freya’s playful return.

Lucifer studied the smirk she threw back at Asmo. Just how enthusiastic was she? Did the gesture reach her eyes and fill them with warmth? Was the blush on her face the product of her oversized sweater or Asmodeus’s advances? She’d agreed to the plan of course -- nothing was ever too crazy for that human -- but did she agree for the fun of it or for the fun of it?

Bah. Idle thinking. Would they just get on with it already? He wasn’t sure how much longer he could control the nervous flock of demons crowding the already-limited space behind the bookshelves.

“Same here. I’m getting seriously hungry and Freya was supposed to eat lunch with me,” Beel rumbled somewhere behind him.

Levi shifted uncomfortably beside Lucifer, his shoulders slumped, bowed more than usual. “And Freya said she’d help me with a dungeon, but it’s tonight and at this rate we’re going to miss it…”

“Oh, hey Levi, I’m supposed to log on with you. I asked Freya if I could and she said yes and told me to tell you, but I fell asleep.”

“Hmph,” Satan scoffed. “Do any of you actually give her time to do her schoolwork?”

For a moment, the chorus of their incessant voices disappeared in a vortex of heat and adrenaline and Lucifer was left alone as Asmo wrapped one arm around the small of Freya’s back. His brother’s expression was triumphant, overjoyed, and the sun seemed to emanate from a space just above the crown of his head.

Even Freya seemed to feel its rays as they poured over her. Fresh, newly oxygenated blood and contentment seeped into her cheeks and lips, filling them with the color of spring. 

As Asmo rested the other hand upon her face, cradling it, Freya melted into his touch as if she was a body of water the morning sun favored over all else. Lucifer examined this too -- her easy acquiescence, the tilt of her chin protruding, how her full lips parted for his brother, the serpentine way each arm locked itself around his neck.

It was so effortless, their affection. As if it’s already played out a thousand times, a script within their love etched onto itself over and over again. The realization was a single, sinking pebble, burrowing into his chest and then exploding… leaving every shard to settle between his airways. 

It was ridiculous to feel this way, so pointless, so incorrigible, completely asinine and no doubt due to the lack of sleep that’s been plaguing him recently--

The scuff of a shoe kicking the ground and then, “Pfft. I’m sick of this. I say we barge in and demand whoever’s been kickin’ up a fuss to come out already.”

“Seriously. How am I ever supposed to sleep again with the image of those two kissing branded into my head?”

“Agreed. Some of us live forever and I, for one, am not pleased I will have to remember this for the next thousand years.”

“Guys. I’m starving. I can’t handle waiting here for much longer.”

“Shut up, Beel. The kitchen will still be there when this is over. But Asmo finally getting Freya to kiss him… that’s a once in a lifetime thing.”

“Well… we hope.”

“Shut it, Satan! I don’t wanna think about that. Makes me nauseous just to hear it.” A pause. “Oh, man, did he just put his tongue in her mouth? I’m going to be sick. UGH. If he even tries to touch her butt I’m killin’ him. Done-zo.”

Lucifer bristled at the turn in conversation. It was true -- Freya bent under the command of Asmo’s embrace, yielding to his form, just as her mouth responded to the slip and slide of his lips. She seemed to kiss him with gusto, as if she really meant it, as if his fingers enmeshing in her long, curly hair had been wanted all along and she’d just had to wait for the opportunity. 

He would rather die than admit it, but Lucifer concurred with Mammon. Asmodeus was tantalizing to the most hardened of humans. Although Freya was immune to his magic, one couldn’t help but wonder if she’d finally succumbed to the natural instincts within that screamed for his beauty, desiring it… craving for the littlest taste, despite knowing of his innermost nature as a vile, indiscriminate demon.

It was obscene, the reverence with which Asmo kissed Freya. He was courageous and forward and took care to kiss her with depth -- not just with his tongue but with his whole body. Asmo held her and that was the most painful part of it. Freya was an iceberg thawing in his arms, leaning forward even as he pulled away to gaze at her probably because she needed more, and the lazy grin bubbling on the surface of her face was louder than anything Mammon could ever yell because it spoke of joy and bliss and--

Yes! There it was!! The trickster, the artifice, the sly, impish -- dare he say, demonic -- swindler he knew and hated, even as it amused him. The spirit who defied him, ascended the staircase, freed Belphie against his wishes... subjugated, albeit willingly, all of his celestial brothers because she could and wanted to. There it was, burning beneath her hazel eyes, broiling within the smile she beamed at Asmodeus. 

One only had to look closely to see the sharp, compacted twist of her brows to see the devilment there, or perhaps, the slight narrowing of the crow’s feet lightly stamped across her outer eyes. A quick glance at Asmo revealed he saw none of this -- his glee was unencumbered by doubt of any sort and was blazed freely within the auras around them.

“Hey, why is Lucifer smiling?”

“Yeah. What could possibly be humorous at a time like this?”

He froze, and both of his arms petrified where they’d lain across his chest. Had the relief he’d felt inside somehow made its way to the surface? How… trite. 

There was a need to answer in a way that mitigated their sudden suspicion of him. What would satisfy their unwanted curiosity?

Aha!

Still frozen, Lucifer jerked his chin in Asmo’s direction. “Look. Someone took a picture.” 

The brothers all stiffened and turned to where he motioned. Asmodeus and Freya were extricating themselves, limbs and fingers untangling in a way reminiscent of sticky, processed syrup coagulating.

Their gazes swept the room for the culprit, though Freya directed most of her attention to the bookcase they hid behind. Lucifer shifted against the wall and for a moment, their eyes met, and there was an odd sentiment lingering behind her bright gaze. It almost looked like… hunger. 

A terrible, gargantuan, bottomless pit split open inside his belly. He couldn’t stop the image of himself crossing the classroom from churning within his mind’s eye. He would tear Freya free from Asmodeus’s grasp and seize her into his own arms. She would be flushed with shock and surprise and then stare at him in wonder, and he would cover every inch of her slender form with his body in a desperate, ungodly embrace that would last until they both turned to dust.

He would hold her the way she deserved to be held. Not in jest, nor for sport like Asmo. But because she was her and he was him and she was a bellflower destined to fade one petal at a tim--

Stop.

No goodness could come from such a train of thought. It was imprudent, greedy. Not befitting for a demon of Pride, a prince of Hell. A careless mistake he would not dwell on again.

He winked at her instead -- a playful gesture -- and delight softened her features. It was less radiant than Asmodeus’s, untameable vanity, not so much a sun than a bonfire on a tepid, summer night, but infinitely fuller.

Lucifer allowed himself a sliver of the luminescence spilling into her face and it warmed him.

“All right, what the hell was that?” Mammon. He strode past Lucifer, emerging roughly from the bookcase. The others followed, leaving Lucifer last in line. 

Asmo positively glowed with satisfaction. Freya, meanwhile, also vibrated with some sort of gratification as they all approached the couple, her lips curled up in a smirk that did not dissipate. 

Lucifer resisted the urge to gag. The contentment coiled off her aura in palpable waves, the thrum of a job well done lapping at his side. So, she had wanted to kiss him after all because… fun. Would the human’s foolishness never cease?

“A camera?” Mammon exclaimed. “Seriously?”

Satan touched a finger to his chin. “How interesting. A camera acting with full autonomy. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like that before.”

The thin timbre of Asmodeus’s voice permeated the classroom. “Of course the camera is in love with me! My beauty is irresistible! Isn’t that right, Freya?”

Something like steel stretched out in the following moment. All eyes were on Freya as she prepared to answer and Lucifer felt an eyebrow sail to the top of his forehead, awaiting.

She didn’t hesitate. “Oh, totally, dude. You are definitely the most scrumptious demon in all the land.”

The brothers grinned at the obvious sarcasm, though Asmo continued to glow with the compliment. 

When Freya met his gaze once more, he felt the side of his mouth twitch up. She was immune to Asmodeus’s charm, no matter how frivolous the kiss, no matter available he made himself to her. The world was right once more.

Nevertheless, it was time to meet with the angels to discuss their plan for trapping the camera. With a fair amount of space now separating Asmodeus and Freya, the brothers were physically more relaxed than before, the jealousy leaving their bodies with ease despite Asmo’s overt contentedness.

The conversation turned into a jumble of ideas, thoughts, and schemes on how to reverse the magical curse put on the camera. All baseless, of course. Senseless rambling from idiot demons, but it was a start.

Lucifer caught Freya just before she exited the classroom, touching her on the elbow. She paused. 

The space was suddenly quiet without the others, and it soothed something inside him as she gazed into his face, the mischief in each iris momentarily disabled in place of sheer curiosity.

“Yeah?”

Her attention was pure oxygen rushing into his bloodstream, pumping health into his body from the inside out. 

“Hi.” He couldn’t keep the smirk off his face.

Freya retaliated in kind, and she veered in Lucifer’s direction so that they were face to face. When she leaned against the doorway, the features on her face soft with sincerity, lightning struck the lines of his palms. He rubbed each thumb across their respective forefinger to dispel some of the energy.

“Hi,” she chuckled. “Did you enjoy the show?”

A grimace found its way to his mouth, and he suppressed it half-heartedly. “Of course.” Her lips were still red and swollen from Asmo, the color shouting at him in mockery. 

“So,” he sniffed, disapproving. “Are the legends true? Does the Demon of Lust satisfy? Should I assume he is, in fact, an adequate kisser?”

Mirth expanded her eyes in surprise. “He’s pretty good. A little sloppy. Too much tongue in the beginning, but overall, yes, I would say he’s adequate.”

It wasn’t exactly pleasant to hear, but banter with Freya was always a luxury, a dessert snatched and gobbled up whenever he had time away from his work. 

A proud, avaricious shade of desire rippled down his spine, snaking over his body from head to toe. Lucifer ignored this as well, stuffing the emotion into a place where it couldn’t publicly make a fool of him.

“It sounds as if he would benefit from a bit of restraint,” he replied, heat bleeding into his voice. “Rushing so often ruins the experience of intimacy, wouldn’t you agree?”

Lucifer caught Freya’s gaze as it dipped towards his mouth, and the desire roared from its prison.

Freya scanned him over, scrutinizing him as if she could see what he buried. “I do agree.  However, sometimes rushing is necessary, or even a product of that intimacy. Of something bottled up or denied.” One cheek bulged from her tongue pushing against it.

“Some of us are only human, after all.” 

Ah… there was always so much tension, so many challenges and dares which bordered on outright demands whenever they conversed. 

At any other time, Lucifer would digest these provocations and rebound with one of his own, but the image of her in Asmodeus’s arms, liquefying her mouth to his, detonated at the forefront of his mind. 

The darkness of a demon’s craving was something to monitor, to keep in check. However, such constant monitoring bred exhaustion, and the sharp retort on his tongue withered away. 

His next exhale was a sigh breezing through his nose. Freya’s brow momentarily curved, analyzing, and when he met her stare, Lucifer knew all mockery had left his face. He was tired.

What did that leave, exactly? Unabashed affection? Neutrality? He searched for how his features felt -- they felt slack. Fatigued. But he also couldn’t hold back the pleasure being with her brought him, and his lips widened in jubilance.

“We should fix your hair before meeting up with the others, or else a demon may get the wrong impression. Devilgram remains ever the cesspool of lousy rumors, after all. And since we’re apparently dealing with a demonic camera...”

The confusion on her face was a cherry blossom unfurling in the wind. Lucifer approached her as she straightened from the wall. He could feel her breath on his cheeks, lukewarm and serene.

Freya looked up at him, and it was as if the ocean itself rushed over everything he was, so charged was the atmosphere around their bodies.

“Why? Do I have bed-head or something?” 

Lucifer stilled as Freya unconsciously leaned towards him. Only human, indeed.

“You definitely have bed-head,” he replied, deep laughter stirring inside his chest. Her normally-curly hair was bushed out in awkward places, remnants of Asmo’s passion, and the effect was almost hilarious… like a briar bush untamed and stomped over by a wandering traveler.

Her jaw was the gloss of an unburned candle as his hands skimmed over her skin, pulling each curl back into place and twisting it anew. 

Freya -- who so easily melted for Asmodeus -- stiffened, the dark vines of her lashes closing shut at his touch. She swayed a little on her feet as if her body couldn’t decide whether to remain or surrender, an old pendulum too drowsy out to spin true.

She spoke with her eyes closed and her voice was lower, slurred in the way a person speaks before awakening. “How lame. For a fashionista, he couldn’t have been more considerate about my hair? Asmo of all people should know never to mess with curls after styling them. Hmph.”

Lucifer grinned at that. “Like I said. He would benefit from some restraint.” A shudder ripped through her when his hands brushed by her neck. Warm, her pulse slow and sleepy.

“To be honest, bed-head isn’t your worst look,” he said, correcting her part. “Hm… the sea-witch aesthetic after that snowball fight with the others was probably worse than this.” His grin opened at her scoff.

“‘How gracious of you.” Did she realize she was humming? 

“Also, you seem to be making it a habit of yours to groom me, Lucifer.” The sound of his name from her lips jolted him, and as if she knew, Freya lifted her eyelids, eying him with accusations. “Have you noticed?”

For a moment, he had no idea what she’d meant by that. Then it clicked.

“Oh, yes. When we shot Diavolo’s movie, right? During makeup?”

Extraneous ringlets waterfalled over his fingers when she nodded. The sensation was cashmere. Bottled rose oil from the purest blossom.

“Not that I’m complaining. Feel free to play with my hair anytime.” Her eyes closed once more. 

The invitations came so freely from her! So much different than her embrace with Asmo. In private, her affection was honest, a candor crystal buried beneath sarcasm and parody. 

With Asmo, it seemed as if she’d given herself completely, wholly, without reservation or even a shred of contemplation.

With Lucifer, her affection was given only when revealed, or pried away from her stubborn grasp. He knew this because it was the way he expressed love -- through gritted teeth and compulsory confrontation. That was the difference between truth and artifice. One was easier than the other because it was easier. 

“I appreciate the permission,” Lucifer murmured, “However, my brothers may make a fuss should they see me interact with you in any way that doesn’t involve a lecture.”

Which was unquestionably true, and Freya’s nose knew it, even as it snorted. 

“As much as I enjoy your lectures…” She giggled at his subsequent glare, the silly staccato becoming phantom birds which danced around them. But then Freya opened her mouth, and nothing else came out of it.

Lucifer frowned. His prompt was silent, a tenderness sprouting from the tops of his brows.

And then her eyes flashed open and it was like the world vanished, folded in on itself. Paper crumpled up because it was used and worthless, and whatever remained was omniscient, a singular power separate from the cosmos. 

That’s what it felt like when she looked at him, the core of her being consuming the space behind her eyes, eating up whatever was in its way. Her voice was a whisper, a thread of the power left behind, the only sound within their absent universe.

“Lucifer… enough.”

The breath in his lungs glaciated. 

“Just this once.”

The words pierced each tendon in his hand, suspending them, even as they rested within her curls. The brown in each green eye simmered almost angrily, but Lucifer caught the drained affectation slackening her jaw. She was tired, and for the first time, she’d dropped her guard.

What could he say? What did she want to hear? His tongue would not obey her. The hands in her hair were the question marks in questions he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

Freya’s stare pinned him to the floor though she didn’t move a muscle. Her gaze had hands and fingers that reached into him and yanked at his lapels, fisting the fabric together in a knot he couldn’t undo. 

All his eyes could do was beg. Beg for answers. Beg for her to take it back. His heart began to sprint.

Freya paused. “Interact with me. The way you want to.”

Could a heart run itself into nothingness? What was she asking of him? This was a breach in their meta, their subliminal agreement for, well… restraint! They’d had moments before of course, had come close to crossing that line, but this was a shattering of the entire wall. What lay behind except for the unknown? The risk? The ache?

He was not like Asmo. Lucifer could not, would not yield so easily like he did, capitulating to his most base instinct. It simply was not in his nature, regardless if his body coveted hers. Still…

If he closed his eyes, he could see it. A pathway. A compromise. A single, golden, gentle thoughtform arose from the bottomless cavern in his belly, looping to the roof of his mouth and then taking root like a tree. It filled his limbs with will. His will. Independent of another. Removed from even Diavolo.

When he opened his eyes, the fatigued, expectant glare on her face was feverish. She was angry at him. At them both. But her command was the only permission he needed. 

Lucifer’s hands trembled, and his pulse slammed against his throat as his palms came to rest on Freya’s shoulders.

Freya did not stiffen again, but nearly sagged with relief. The naked abandon of her body was almost too much to bear. It was further destruction of the wall once between them. Another step forward into the uncharted territory behind it.

But for all of his refusing, he could not refuse this one request. What did she think of his shaking hands? That he was weak? A coward too afraid to pursue what he wanted?

Freya’s arms were lithe, sinuous vines he could discern through the tattered long-sleeve sweater she wore. Warm and healthy even through the cotton, pulsing with mortal life. Her eyes watched him, flickering from head to chest. Surely the pulsing organs within were visible, knocking at his sternum as if they sought passage, and surely she could see their frantic rhythm.

His fingers skimmed over her ribs, down, until reaching her waist, which elicited an obvious shiver. Slowly, without meeting her eyes, Lucifer pulled her to him until they were pressed together -- tremoring sternums and all.

She stopped breathing for the most minuscule of moments before picking up again, akin to a hummingbird’s flight. There was so much being said. Their bodies positively howled at each other.

When it was time to look at her, his gaze was hesitant, unsure, but then their eyes locked and something important broke and whatever she saw in his face made her gasp.

“I see,” Freya breathed. The very outline of her pupils appeared to vibrate.

It was done. She’d perceived something secret within him. A locked chest smashed open and exposed. There was a sudden pressure in his chest, a block of clouds stirring together and graying as if in preparation for a storm. It almost felt as if something was taken from him.

Lucifer’s next exhale came sharply, and he fastened Freya’s arms around his waist. She responded immediately, flexing each hand into the bow of his vertebrae, and the image of her staring up at him in wonder -- as he’d imagined -- came to fruition. 

Just this once.

His reflection mirraged and beamed back at him from the shine of her eyes. He thought he looked fractured, punched through, and familiar, alien burgundy burned through him. 

What did the color feel like to her? It was so inhuman... so foreign to the complexions of the human realm. Had his red eyes ever repelled her? Scared her? Had it ever triggered a subconscious, mortal impulse to protect herself from him?

But then the golden thoughtform returned, and with it, the warm peace of certainty. It beckoned him forward, encouraged him to reach forth, to caress the knolls of her cheekbones as he cradled her face in his hands.

Freya’s lips parted, the exhale slipping into his nose and mouth. It did not resemble her encounter with his brother in any way. She was too fixed but somehow too eager, her breathing too uneven to be a frivolous, physical attraction like she had with Asmodeus.

For a moment, all they did was eye each other. Her neck was an olive-colored bridge, arching to fit his towering height. Her lashes, shredded umbrellas shimmying in strange dances, guarding each eyelid from debris. Lucifer stroked the spaces just underneath the lash-line, and her next blink was heavy.

If someone were to walk in on them, what would they see? Two lovers embracing? A couple of friends succumbing to primality? One, eternal demon and one human resisting whatever doomed fate loomed behind the shattered wall?

The pressure in his chest convulsed and Lucifer swooped down, tilting her face to the right angle, and their breaths caught the second their noses touched, and then their cupid’s bow and then--

Their mouths halted, paralyzed, as they collided with one of Lucifer’s thumbs so that it obstructed all contact. 

He had shifted his hand at the last possible moment, slipping between their faces and lips.

Freya froze. She pulled away a bit and her subsequent words came through slightly muffled.

“What are you--”

Regret. It stormed into him, marching into his forehead and jaw just to twist the muscles in defiance. He didn’t want to see her disapproval. So, he kept his eyes closed a little longer. When they finally did lift, they latched onto the thumb on her lips. 

She searched his visage for an explanation, features tightening in bewilderment, but all it could do was bend in repentance.

“Not yet,” he murmured, pressing lightly onto her mouth. Their eyes shifted over each other -- carnelian and nephrite. “Not after Asmo. Not in response to him.” 

If they were to ever fully give in, to surrender all, the experience could not be associated or tethered to his brothers in any way. Lucifer knew Freya had flirtations with a few -- and one could hardly fault a human for falling star-struck, even if they were hopeless idiots -- and so if the time came where she were to choose him and he were to choose her… well, he’d want her fully. Even if it was selfish of him. Especially if it was selfish of him. 

He could not deny his biggest sin or the demonic nature inside which fueled him, the same which made his wants necessities. And so… he could not kiss her now, despite the chained longing deep down which thrashed and struggled against his rational mind.

Lucifer wasn’t sure how Freya would respond to this. If she would see his reasoning as childish or perhaps, self-flagellating. 

But, instead, she nodded and released a sigh which cut through him. He was determined not to show it.

“You’re right,” she said. His center of gravity deviated when she squeezed him. “Okay.”

Was it? 

The need so restrained rose up and tangled with the golden thoughtform in his limbs and  overlapped it and Lucifer, in an adjustment so fast he hadn’t realized he’d used his celestial speed, swiftly undid her arms and instead, looped them around his neck. 

Reverence could be paid to more than just the lips. If this was all the time they had, so be it. 

The height difference yanked her up. It very nearly lifted her feet off the ground, but this was a fleeting observation as he buried his face into her neck, willing the universe to stop, for his brothers to take indefinite vacations, for the curly hair swathing his neck to never vanish.

Lucifer thought Freya felt the same. There was no mistaking her hummingbird heart, for one. Clothes and flesh may have separated their bodies, but the frenzied songs of each reverberated through every atom, until Freya’s breath was his and the length of her spine was what upheld his legs and the small of her back was the sky and the knocking of their sternums might finally be a door that opens

until he released her and stepped away, the only evidence of the moments before set aflame in each set of eyes, the rapid inflation of their chests.

The universe had returned, bringing along with it the smell of books, wooden desks, and chalk -- though the scent of Freya’s conditioner lingered in his airways. Lucifer combed through Freya’s expression, searching for any sign of disappointment or rage, but all he found was reddened cheeks, the ghost of excitement… and maybe, perhaps, the littlest, tiniest fragment of awe.

Which, in fairness, could have easily been his ego.

Their masks slipped back into place with ease. Its tangible energies were more than familiar, a protective covering opposite the sea of hunger which left them shipwrecked on discordant islands. 

Lucifer suspected that Freya was just as relieved as he to be able to crawl underneath its shield once more. That was… a lot. A highlight reel of memories he’d undoubtedly replay in his head until the imaginary film frayed and snapped, but still. A lot.

The air was filled with their subsequent breaths.

“How’s my hair?” Freya asked, smirking. There was a breathlessness to her voice but she hid it well enough. The relentless, demanding stare from earlier was also completely absent.

Lucifer surprised himself and laughed. The result of the oxytocin flooding his body, or her sheer audacity?

“It’s perfect. Not a strand out of place.” Which was true, even in his rapture he’d had enough sense to leave her unruffled. Sloppiness was for lesser men.

This answer pleased her. Freya hummed the next exhale, taking care to crack every finger and joint before bouncing once on her toes.

A little jittery, are we? 

Already the highlight reel endeavored to waltz in his mind. It was a quivering, persistent urge -- one, he bemoaned, he would be forced to ignore vehemently in the coming days. Ugh. 

“I’m sure the others are wondering where we are,” Freya said. She rolled her eyes, probably for his benefit more than anything else. 

Boo-hoo. It must have been so hard being the nucleus of so many demon’s lives. Still, he thought her amusing.

“Shall we go before they send out a search party?”

A grumble thundered in his throat. Now, that was too accurate an assessment for comfort.

He scowled -- a natural gesture which arose whenever said brothers were mentioned. “We shall. I suppose.” 

When he extended his arm to her, Freya took it without hesitation, only a normal amount of elation allowed on her face. Back to their routine, it was.

They approached the doorway and he paused, lingering until she slipped through the door ahead of him. She didn’t let go of him, though.

“Hey, Lucifer?” 

His eyebrows furrowed at the question mark in her voice. “Hm?” He cast his gaze back onto her as they scoured the hallway, but she wasn’t looking at him.

“Why did we dawdle for so long anyway? I can’t seem to remember.”

The pressure on his sternum knocked once more. He buried it, shoved it down… but grinned when she finally did look his way. Especially when she winked, as he had earlier.

“Well,” he said, returning his gaze to the hall. “It was our logistical responsibility. As the camera’s still on the loose, it’s only fitting that we be thorough in our search for it. Yes?”

She hmphed in agreement.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

[petite-neko]

Nexus of Time - 05

Fanfiction: Nexus of Time Story Summary: Gohan trapped with in the depths of time! Now, Trunks needs to save Gohan and allow him his three years of training… for yet unknown to both of them, Gohan is the future saviour of Earth! But how can Trunks save somebody whom he doesn’t know needs saving? Fandom: Dragon Ball Z Characters: Gohan, M!Trunks, M!17&18, M!Bulma Pairing: Gohan/M!Trunks, M!Gohan/M!Trunks Rating: T Warnings: Violence, Character Death, Angst, PTSD, Universe Alteration Author’s Notes: :D

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(Check source for ao3 link!)

Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6

Gohan slammed his fists into the ground.

“D-Damn it!”

What was this world doing to him?

Scared – he was just so scared. No, he was terrified.

All he could see was the future that was being laid out for him. All he could see was this. This desolation. See this hopelessness. And he was too weak… too scared to do anything.

He couldn’t even face the facts. It overwhelmed him.

Was it because it was too tragic, too true?

He didn’t want to see everybody dying! He didn’t want to be here! He didn’t want the world to end up like this! He didn’t want to die!

Gohan shivered, hugging his own body. He felt the androids attacking again, not too far away… he couldn’t go today - he was too weak.

But that was always the case, wasn’t it? He was too weak to save his dad against his uncle, he was too weak to challenge Nappa and Vegeta, he was too weak to save Namek, he was too weak when Frieza attacked Earth.

Even now, he was too weak to go back home and warn everybody about these androids, about this fate. He was stuck in these wastelands again, and could not leave until he was strong enough. He could not fly – what if those androids could sense him – he could not move – what if he ran into them?

(He would die. That’s what. 

.+++.

A week. A week. Seven days of trying. Seven days of failing...

Now he knew what Grandmother Lodi was talking about. Even though he had seen horrors in his life - he saw people dying, he saw a world as it was about to explode – there was nothing more terrifying than this place, this time. He was trapped in a cage of fear, unable to move, unable to do anything but hide. He was ruled by those androids with their evil, sadistic smirks… Their not-so-idle threats. Their strength. What they represented…

Yet, he had a fear that the old woman would never have guessed.

Gohan had to face them all over again. He had to face them with the knowledge that they will kill his friends, kill everybody he knows, that they will cause terror in every man, woman and child on Earth, that they will kill him.

How? How could Gohan face them with that knowledge?

Then, Trunks’ ki signalled in the distance. Gohan’s head shot up. He could feel the golden power of a Super Saiyajin, and yet… he could feel it waning. Gohan’s eyes closed as he concentrated on it.

He could feel the ki, he could sense the emotions. Anger, desperation, curiosity… shock? Pain.

Gohan broke out of it. What was going on over there? Why was Trunks so… emotional?

Yet, the ki continued to drop. It was slow… it was torturous. Was this what it meant to be stronger yet not strong enough? To have torture prolonged? To have the pain inflicted even harder?

Trunks’ ki continued to drop, and Gohan could not do anything about it. Fear had him glued to the spot. He was supposed to be Trunks’ mentor… he was supposed to train him…he was supposed to protect him…

Did he sacrifice himself for Trunks, like Piccolo had for him?

Then, images played out in his mind. Once again was he younger, watching as Nappa’s energy blast headed towards him. Then, the man whom he began to look up to, jumped in front of him, spoke words of hope.

And yet, Gohan couldn’t understand them at that moment. All that he knew was that Piccolo was going to die – die for his mistakes, die just like his dad did, and there wasn’t going to be any dragon balls to bring him back…

But that scene warped. Instead, it wasn’t Nappa, no it was the androids. They were toying with his beloved mentor, they were torturing him, and Piccolo’s ki was falling – just as Trunks’ was – slowly, gradually…

Then Seventeen approached him as Eighteen continued to play with Piccolo.

“Why aren’t you yellow?” He said with clear disappointment. “I told you to be yellow!”

The man had punched him across the jaw. And yet, Piccolo’s ki was still falling.

“Tch, you are pathetic.” He said as he charged the bolt that would surely be his death.

Piccolo’s ki had become almost nonexistent. “Go-han…” The voice was Piccolo’s yet it was desperate, something his mentor was not.

“Then again.” The black-haired android said, turning towards Piccolo instead. “Maybe this’ll get you angry enough. How about I kill your father’s mentor like I killed him? Will that make you fun to play with?”

Gohan’s eyes widened. He didn’t want to watch, but he his eyes were glued to Piccolo. The light grew before it flew towards Piccolo.

The ki disappeared.

.xxx.

Trunks knew that he was no match for them, yet he still tried. Some days he could hold his own against one, and other days he couldn’t. They always overpowered him in the end though. Why? Why was it always this way? And even now, with the knowledge of Gohan’s son driving him, he still could not defeat them. Was that the reason he kept feeling his old mentor’s ki? Was the rock, the mountainside… were they all indicators that the child had lost? That the child had tried to defend himself?

And, as he fell to the ground, his hair losing the artificial tint, Trunks thought he sensed it again, thought that he felt Gohan’s ki sparking to life, shining golden just like before…

.xxx.

Gohan didn’t know the moment that he had closed his eyes, but when he opened them, he saw yellow. Reality and the twisted world in his mind had given rise to the anger that he pulled out from deep within him. And, even if he knew that Seventeen hadn’t killed Piccolo to rouse him (or perhaps he had, Gohan didn’t know, and didn’t want to know) he wanted to pummel the artificial human to the ground, destroy every piece into oblivion. But… but where was Trunks’ ki? Gohan’s eyes widened. No! They couldn’t have!

His heart raced before he took off towards the ruined city.

(Part of him marvelled just how fast he was.)

The moment he got there, he saw that they were leaving. He glanced down at the smoking metropolis and glared at them.

“Why, look it’s the brat.” Eighteen said with a smirk. “And his hair… it seems that you will get your fun as well Seventeen.”

“I’ll say… it’s almost as if I’m looking into the past. Don’t you remember that glare Eighteen? The one Gohan gave us when we killed all of his comrades? It’s such a pity his father died before we could kill him.” Seventeen responded with that smirk.

Gohan felt his blood boil. “As if you could have killed him.” He rumbled lowly.

“Aww, he even cares for the grandfather he never knew. How adorable.”

Gohan’s emotions were getting the better of him, but, quite frankly, he just didn’t care. He charged blindly towards Seventeen.

“Tsk, tsk.” The android said as he held Gohan’s fists and dodged the flying kicks. “You really need some training.”

Yet, this was all Gohan knew. Charge at the enemy with as much rage as you can muster. When Gohan let his anger go, all strategy, all logic seemed to vanish. There was not enough time to hone the anger, not enough to keep a cool head with all of it in tow, not enough to learn to direct it in every punch, every kick.

“You’ve certainly gained strength and speed, but you’re just going berserk. This isn’t fun at all.” Seventeen said before kneeing Gohan in the stomach again and bringing his elbow down on his neck.

Everything else faded. Gohan didn’t even feel his body as it fell down into the rubble of the city.

.xxx.

Trunks pushed himself up. Rocks and debris fell from his body as he rose. He coughed, dust escaping his lungs and he leaned against a street light. The sky was lit in twilight – the sun was setting, or perhaps rising, and he did a quick examination on his body. A few of his ribs were at least bruised – but probably broken if he knew Eighteen. His head was throbbing, and bruises littered his body. At least he had prevented further destruction of the city… usually after they had their fun with him, they left for a few days, perhaps a week or two if he was lucky.

It was almost depressing that he was so accustomed to this, that every time he woke up in the middle of a destroyed city, he didn’t panic. He just knew that he finished a battle with the androids. It took him a little while (especially even more so when he had a concussion) to remember what exactly had happened. And yet, all that he could pick up was that he finally managed to catch the androids this time, and that he was in Parsley City, after weeks of failed attempts.

Yet, there was something else that he knew he should remember, but his head felt foggy and it was painful. He’d remember it eventually.

As he reached into his jacket, he found a small box and it sparked the memory that he was to go training. He had the food, and he always carried a medical kit around with him… With a sigh, Trunks hobbled out of the city. The place that had become their training grounds – Gohan and his – was not too far away. If he could get there and find a place to rest near the river, he could manage recovery and begin his training.

Oh Kami… he felt like he was going to… Trunks leaned over and let out the meal his mother made from him earlier in the day... the sun was setting with the heat that was just starting to dissipate, not increase.

Ugh… he hated it when that happened… and his head just wouldn’t stop hurting…

.xxx.

As Gohan came to, he groaned. He glanced around, panicked at first before settling down. He was just getting accustomed to waking up in a post-apocalyptic world. But… where was he now? His stomach was hurting again, as did his head.

And the memories rushed back to him. He… he had become Super Saiyajin, he had come to Trunks’ rescue, yet where was Trunks? No! He couldn’t be dead! Gohan stood up and forced himself to fly, searching desperately for the unique ki signature, and he found it! There! Not too far away from him! It was weak, it was fluctuating, but it was there! Gohan flew down and landed behind Trunks, only to catch him as he toppled over. “Trunks!” He yelled out, his hand automatically looking for a pulse, and he relaxed once he felt it.

Yet, Gohan was still too weak to carry the other back to the training ground. (He had to avoid civilization, for he could not risk running into the androids right now) Perhaps… maybe…

“Kinto’un!” Gohan yelled and watched the skies. There was no response and Gohan sighed, looking down at the ground, this was going to be a long journey. Yet, just as he was about to lift off the ground, he felt a blast of air next to him. He glanced at the cloud, then at Trunks. Would the cloud let Trunks on? Trunks was Vegeta’s son…Gohan winced as he lifted Trunks onto the cloud… and he didn’t go through. Perhaps it could be that he’s asleep… Gohan thought with relief before joining the man on the cloud. “To the training grounds!” Gohan yelled and held onto the unconscious man as they flew through the skies.